A new beginning
by the wistful mouse
Summary: A one shot of Manfred's reunion with his mother. Set after 'The Red Knight', so there are major spoilers


**Hey there. This is a one shot I wrote years ago about a time where Manfred reunites with his mother. Set after 'The Red Knight' (yes, I am one of those Manfred lovers who refuses to believe he is dead). Sorry if your eyes bleed from the lack of spacing :)**

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><p>Light filtered through the thin sheets of the boy's (or rather man's) eyelids, and penetrated through the black abyss that were his irises. He slowly opened his eyes, only for them to be pulled back together due to the blinding light invading them.<br>"Manfred" his eyes snapped open at the sound of the familiar and concerned, yet unbelievable, impossible, beautiful voice. His thoughts (his wishes) were confirmed. His thin lips parted, but no sound came out to grant his amazement with a voice. Instead, he sat up as quick as lightening flashing across the ferocious sky. At least, he tried to. In truth, he only got half-way before a deafening pain stabbed through his chest and thrust him down again.  
>"Please don't strain yourself, dear" she urged, every facet of her painted with concern. On an instinct that hadn't been implemented for almost seven years, she placed one slim hand on his, and another on the bandages that swaddled his chest, hiding away every inch of ivory skin. Manfred, still stunned but comforted by her gentle touch, relaxed against the mountain of pillows behind him, gazing at the woman sitting beside him in awed shock.<br>It was only then that he noticed that he was in a hospital, the bleached whiteness that licked every surface giving the small room in which they were in a cold, clinical feel. The large window facing him gave him a desolate view of the dark, cloudy sky and the thrashing of trees as the wind competed with the slicing rain. However, the disappointments his eyes perceived from his surroundings paled into insignificance when they rested upon her. His mother. Her raven hair streaked with strands of grey rippled round her small, elfin face, which beheld the most joyful expression he believed to have seen upon her, despite her large, grey eyes being also shrouded in concern. Concern…for him?  
>She sighed contentedly, breaking the stunned silence between them, and took her hand off his chest to lightly stroke his long, black hair that straggled down to his shoulders. A sad smile painted her face.<br>"You've grown so…_old. _When did you stop being that impressionable little boy and turn into this handsome young man?"  
>Manfred, still dazed, hurriedly choose a response out of the many that swarmed in his mind like ants scurrying round their nest, creating an infinite number of criss-cross paths to follow. There were simply too many things he wanted to say, and only one chance to say it. Eventually he managed to choke out<br>"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?"  
>He realised upon stuttering this that there was a raw pain in his throat, like it had been rubbed with sandpaper. In fact, he realised, he hurt near enough everywhere, each pain inequitably contending with each other to be the most crippling. He winced, his heavy brow furrowing, and Dorothy's hand tightened round his.<br>"Are you alright?" He nodded determinably, telling himself that he could handle this. He had been through it all before with the leopard attack, and knew (wincing at the memory) that he just had to tread through the pain one step at a time, and not let it overcome him. Dorothy smiled adoringly.  
>"You always were the stubborn one" She paused, but before she could continue Manfred interrupted suddenly, leaping up again, this time noticing the pain a lot less: his mind was filled with other things, more important, prominent things. Like guilt.<br>"I…I'm…I'm sorry" he managed to mutter regretfully, glancing at her now perfectly functioning left hand resting on his, before hanging his head shamefully. Manfred was shocked with himself. Firstly, because up until that moment he had forgotten about the dreadful thing that he had done to his mother. He had received head injuries from the accident, and consequently quite a few things had slipped slyly out of his mind, but he couldn't comprehend the thought of forgetting something so important. Secondly, simply because he had apologised. He couldn't remember the time he had last time done that. Zelda had once said she liked that about him, because you could tell that when he said it that his apology was well meant, not just the hollow apologies like so many people used too often. Ah, Zelda, how he missed her seamless wisdom…  
>Dorothy gently pushed him back down again, followed his gaze and smiled reminiscently, sub-consciously raising her hand a little. She knew that the subject would come up eventually, but (although it had been peeping in the crowded corner of her hopes) the last thing she had expected was an apology: she knew how hard it was for her son to admit to his own wrong-doings.<br>"Oh darling, let's both forget about that silly incident"  
>"But -"<br>"I'll always love you no matter what you do, so please let's just forget it."  
>Manfred opened his mouth to protest, but once again his words were stolen from him by the enormity of the wonderfulness that he had woken up to. His mother was back. And she still loved him. That knowledge was enough to release his heart from the shackles of guilt that had tethered it for so many long years. Dorothy continued.<br>"And to answer your question, I'm here because…because you are. I just couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt any longer" Her eyes filled with anxiety, echoing the moment when she found out about the horrific accident with that vile Ezekiel's wheelchair, and she leaned closer to him. The thought that had ceaselessly bombarded her head since she had set off for Britain escaped through her rosy lips.  
>"Do you…do you want me here?" It was the longest second of the woman's life as Manfred considered her question and quickly came to an answer of which he had known all his life. The time ticked by at a snails pace, dragging behind it the desperately buried doubts in her head.<br>"Yes. Of course" He smiled self-consciously. It felt strange: the motion was almost alien to his stern, pallid face. The relief that poured through Dorothy was like a wonderful tidal wave crashing through her heart, winding through her veins, twisting through her arteries, leaving a warm, soft feeling behind like the sun's touch on the cold, crisp winter ice.  
>The tidal wave caused a grin of happiness to flood over Dorothy's face, and she jumped up from the chair by her son's bedside and kissed his cheek joyfully. Manfred groaned and turned his head away.<br>"Though not if you're going to do that" he joked, his face serious for a second before collapsing into a smile, which was returned warmly by his mother.

...

The two of them remained there in the hospital room for a long time. Exactly how long, neither of them knew. It could have been twenty seconds, twenty hours, twenty centuries. The length didn't matter, but the content was rich enough to fill their memories till the end of time, stories of their lives blooming like rose blossoms. Manfred recounted as best he could the (plentiful) troubles, the (few) happiness', and the parts in-between that had occurred to him over the last seven years, and Dorothy described her lovely little apartment in a very scenic region of Paris, her gratifying career as a violin teacher, and the marvellous offer she had received recently to join a successful orchestra.  
>The night was drawing in, and Dorothy was resentful of this as Manfred's handsome features became less defined as the light dimmed. After being so long apart, she wanted to drink in the sight of her only son as much as she possibly could, and the night was carelessly ripping this away from her. She could have listened to his solemn, faintly husky voice all day, all week, but it was getting progressively slower and slurred, and she realised that he was fast becoming exhausted after the turn of events. His eyes (although still maintaining their newly-attained excitable sparkle) drooped and his long, gaunt face, framed by black, wavy hair, lolled peacefully.<br>"Goodness, I'd best let you rest before you collapse" Manfred tired body became abruptly rigid and alert, and his eyes were wide, alarmed.  
>"Don't leave" he begged. Dorothy beamed at her son, and stroked his hair comfortingly.<br>"I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Just try to get some rest, for me." Manfred smiled sleepily, closed his eyes, and went very still. A few seconds later, his eyes snapped open as he suddenly remembered something.  
>"Wait – what about dad? What's he…? And home…?" He looked very puzzled as he tried hard to define the fuzzy memory of the proceedings that led to the accident. Dorothy looked upon his face with the same dear, loving look that Zelda had done when he was concentrating. As she would say, he looked 'simply adorable'.<br>"I'll tell you when you wake up, alright, dear? I promise" Manfred expression was resistant for exactly 2 seconds, before it softened into obedience.  
>"Fine" He sighed, lounging back into the crisp, white pillows sleepily. He couldn't remember the last time he'd given in to someone so easily. It must be his mother's presence: it melted away the sourness and rebellion of his adulthood, and stripped him back down to the scared little boy he had once been. Though Manfred chose to put it down to the exhaustion thrust upon him due to healing from the injuries the karmic accident had audaciously inflicted. And the bang on the head he'd received from that stupid ancient wheel.<p>

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><p>The ex-headmaster was only in his late forties, but he already resembled an old man. He wandered aimlessly round hunched, as if carrying the weight of the world upon his wide shoulders. Or in his case, the weight of his dark and now repented deeds, and his regret for what could have been but had been ripped from his gradually more and more unwilling hands. He could have just stepped out of one of the ancient black and white photographs that his father had proudly centred in, with his metallic, unruly grey hair; deathly pale, desiccated skin; lifeless eyes that were more like shallow pools of stagnant oil; black, shapeless drapes of clothes that were worn so often that they had almost become a second skin to him.<br>The vacant castle some miles away from Bloors Academy (the last scrap of luxury that he owned, and of which he expected would soon be snatched from his grasp soon enough by that blasted Bone) dwarfed the large man ridiculously, as did the throne he was slumped desolately on, shivering miserably. He was always cold these days, despite the best efforts of the sun, which had shyly made its unseasonable appearance around two weeks ago, almost as a symbol of Bone's achievement.  
>He gazed with glazed eyes through the window, which was caked in centuries of dirt and mould, to the extent that only the persistent sunlight could infiltrate it, throwing rays of light upon the shadowy figure hunched in the corner of the enormous, once striking ballroom. The rays' cheerful efforts were wasted: no light could bring this man happiness anymore, not now his whole world, everything he had worked so diligently for, had come crashing down on him; and quite literally on his family. He sighed and buried himself further into the dark blanket which brought no warmth to his icy bones, and dismally contemplated his loss. It was ironic, really, that this was the only way to fill his shattered days.<p>

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><p>Meanwhile, back in the hospital room, Dorothy had filled her son in with the events at the Academy as delicately and impartially as she could manage, and was now cautiously telling him the fate of his father.<br>"Poor thing. He lives a terrible half-life. When Lyell took over the academy he gave up. Faded away, so to speak. He comes down to the Academy, now and again, to reminisce. But he's a sad, sad creature"  
>"Why do <em>you<em> feel sorry for him?" Manfred asked disbelievingly. Dorothy sighed.  
>"I can't help it. I loved him, Manfred, more than anyone I'd ever had, and -"<br>"Alright, alright, I get it" Manfred interrupted. Dorothy smiled knowingly. He could never allow a conversation to turn 'wet'. As soon as the dreaded 'l' word was mentioned, he hurriedly put a stop to it.  
>"But…why did he give up so easily? I <em>know<em> Dad. Surely he'd put up some sort of fight" He couldn't comprehend the idea of his father giving up. He guessed it was because he had too much respect and admiration for him. And because he lov…thought too much of him, he was very concerned at his father's state after being forced to surrender everything he'd worked for.  
>Dorothy sighed softly once again. Dr Bloor was a rather difficult and painful subject to bring up, after what had happened between them. Sometimes it dredged up great sadness that dragged her spirit down, determined to bring it down to how it was when she was but a ghost, with only one hand and no hope. Sometimes it raked pain that tore at her heart and every ounce of contentment, trying to replicate the dreadful, heart-stopping moment when her lover coldly claimed that he had never loved her, just her money.<br>"I imagine he was going to, dear. But after that dreadful incident with Ezekiel's wheelchair –" Manfred cringed, though he quickly tried to disguise it as a shiver. "– he was crushed" Manfred cringed again, as if the word was enough to repeat history. Dorothy reached out and gently placed her slender hand on his bony, smooth-skinned cheek. His eyes slid up to meet her's, and it brought a flood of joy to the woman to see that his frosty, callous glare was tinted with a warm glow and a glint that spelled innocence rather than evil.  
>"Darling, he thought you were dead. Ezekiel's passing, he could handle. It was overdue, in my opinion. But you…he cares about you more than you might think"<br>"Yeah, right. So he'd care more about me than his home, his money, his own grandfather for Pete's sake?" he spat bitterly.  
>"Yes, he does. I wouldn't lie to you, you know that, don't you?" Manfred sighed, defeated, and nodded. There was a slightly uncomfortable silence, which was soon broken by Manfred's accusative voice.<br>"Hey wait, how do you know all of this?"  
>"I paid a little visit to Gabriel Silk" she answered mysteriously. He frowned but, with a shake of his head, decided not to pursue the subject.<br>Suddenly, Dorothy stiffened and her finger traced a faded scar that ran from underneath his left eye right across to his chin. It was too faint to have been recent.  
>"What's this?" in a typically mother-like mixed tone of concern and suspicion. Manfred gulped. He hadn't yet got round to telling her about the leopard attack, and with good reason. He hated affection. Well, not exactly hated. Especially where his mother was concerned (not that he would ever admit that). But in the large amounts he was about to receive, it really did bother him, particularly as he just wanted to forget the whole thing. He groaned internally. Might as well get it over with now. The young man began to retell what had happened, his every sentence eventually being punctuated with him being hugged tighter and tighter, until the image of a boa constrictor came to mind.<br>That, in turn, reminded him of his late great-grandfather's once treasured Blue Boa, which Manfred now thought upon with sadness. He'd have liked to be able to turn invisible. He could've put an end to Charlie Bone's plots. And watch Lydia Pieman without her turning round and giving him a look that said 'stop staring at me, you freak' – though she'd always been kind enough to keep her opinions to herself. He knew he had been beginning to creep her out. But damn, she was pretty. Not that this helped whenever Manfred plucked up the courage to speak to her, whilst (rather unsuccessfully) attempting not to babble like an idiot. He guessed that he wouldn't be seeing her again though.  
>A wave of sadness weighed down upon him as he realised he probably wouldn't be able to return to the only home he had ever known. But then he remembered the awful memories which drifted around that dreadful place, like a stone wall, charred and blackened with the furious heat of supernatural flames. And he looked at the woman sitting beside him, a phrase flitting round in his head like a butterfly soaring into the fresh spring air after the stifling humidity of its cocoon. It's not the end, it's the beginning; a new start.<p>

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><p><strong>I hope I didn't make Manfred seem OOC and heartless (and don't say his character is heartless - he's a tender bunny rabbit deep down inside!) by making him forget to ask about his dad for ages. I think I just wanted to show how captivated he is by his mum's presence.<strong>

**Thanks for reading, and please review and tell me what you think :)**


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